


Something about the Spin Cycle

by Vexicle



Category: Original Work
Genre: Character Study, Drabbles, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-08-04 01:03:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16336760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vexicle/pseuds/Vexicle
Summary: The taro lifestyle drabbles





	1. Habitual

_Scrub, scrub, scrub._ Taro grabs the bath ladle and uses the water in it to rinse himself off. Thinking to himself, he looks curiously up at the showerhead. He’s never seen this thing before when he was still living in the village. But he knows that the sports teams at school use showers like this. How interesting.

 _”Oh, Takkun, you don’t have to be so amazed by it,”_ Taro remembers Francis saying after PE today, and thinking about it now, Taro cringes and flushes a slight red as he quickly dries and dresses himself.

 _Ah, yes. Taro, Taro, you need to start acting more normal._ Taro sighs and exits the bathroom. He folds his laundry neatly and places it in a pile in the back room of his kitchen. He stands up and looks out the window. Summer light filters in through the slightly dusty panes.

Even something as simple as showering had made him hesitate. _It’d waste water and money,_ was his first instinct. Then again, none of his classmates seemed to care, so maybe he shouldn’t either? It was all just so foreign to him.

They were friendly enough, but sometimes Taro still feels like a fish out of water amongst his better, more well-adjusted classmates. At least they talk to him, or say hi. There definitely is more of a sense of belonging here than in his quiet old village school. There’s a flash of something that makes him feel an uncomfortable grip in his chest. Shaking his head, Taro walks away.

He stands there idly in his living room, not knowing what to do. He’d find Francis to play ball or frisbee, but somehow from his lackluster performance in PE Taro gets the feeling he’s not all that interested. And besides, his equipments are all greasy and dirty and cracked and more a memento of days behind him than anything anyone would bother to touch.

Shedding the lingering sadness casting a shadow over him, Taro ventures into his room, looking around for cockroaches, and when the coast is clear he walks over to his desk and sits on the plastic chair. Picking up his phone, he smiles as he sees his friend sending him a few texts. A bunch of jumbled greetings and a slew of rambling about the latest episode of whatever. Taro doesn’t watch anything but the news, and curiosity piqued, he thinks that he would really love to know more about the channel show on at 3pm that Francis is seemingly obsessed with.

 _That’s nice to hear,_ he texts back.

Really now, Taro has had his curiosity piqued in a myriad of ways ever since he first landed here, whether it was his first time seeing such a huge crowd at various refuges or the amazement at wireless services existing. Taro hadn’t once yet considered life outside his village, but yet he finds himself uncovering more and more new, shiny things. Which by the way, his minimum wage workers for parents cannot afford. And Francis and others most likely wouldn’t even want to touch any of his crusty old stuff.

No doubt in Taro’s mind there’s a massive gap between his lifestyle and his classmates’. It’s bad enough that he owns only very few plain shirts, some bought, some sewed by his mother, and has an obsessive habit of saving electricity and water. For goodness sake, Taro has heard his classmates jokingly talk about nominating him for green ambassador… or maybe not so jokingly. He figures he should have predicted they’d notice the hundredth time he flicked an unused port’s switch off.

_”Takkun, it’s fine,” Francis jokes as he all but drags Taro over and flick the switch off dramatically. “It’s fine! No one’s using it, so no one will think it’s rude.” Francis’s smile seems a tiny bit sad. “And you know, I think you’ve taught me to notice when I do it too.”_

_Okay._ Taro heaves a sigh and leans back. _Okay, but they haven’t made fun of me for it. Not yet._ Despite this, Taro still feels… like he wants, or needs to bridge the divide between him and his current peers. Or maybe he doesn’t or maybe he can’t? He certainly doesn’t have the means to. But maybe… Taro blanches at the thought of bothering Francis, even though he’s already been to his home before. Maybe he should just sit here and wait for Francis to invite him? He isn’t sure.

Ah, but Francis has a… tablet, Taro thinks its called? Maybe he can… ask to watch with him? That would be fine, right? Even now, Taro squirms uncomfortably, for some strange reason suddenly afraid of Francis’s reaction, nervous and confused all at once. Honestly, it’s partially Francis’s fault for making him wonder in the first place, given that he never seems to shut up about what he watches when the most exciting thing Taro has seen all day is the cat video when he has internet at home.

 _Maybe?_ Taro thinks, suddenly flustered and hands gripping his phone a little harder. He places his phone back down and retreats to his bed, where he stretches out in a sigh. _Gonna do homework soon._ Maybe someday, when he’s finally put his studies behind him and manages to get a job, he can take care of his family better. 

Maybe then he’d actually know how to operate a washing machine. Taro chuckles to himself and rolls over.


	2. Dinner

“Takkun, you sure you can eat that much?”

Taro jumps, scattering the coins all over the counter. Stammering out profuse apologies to the kindly stall vendor, Taro presses his lips together as he turns to face Francis behind him. Green eyes are trained on the three plastic takeaway containers filled with chicken and rice.

“...no,” Taro answers, “they’re for… my parents.”

“Oh?” Francis arches one brow, lips pursed with curiosity as he follows Taro over to the tables. “You guys don’t cook?”

“Uh… well…” Taro cleans his sweaty palms on the folds of his shirt after he carefully places the containers on the table. Boy was the food hot. “We do… but the food here is subsidized. It’s much cheaper for us than to buy seperate ingredients.”

“Oh,” Francis says nonchalantly. Then his eyes widen and he repeats, “ _oh_ ,” except this time he sounds like he’s having a tremendous epiphany.

Self-consciously, Taro scratches at his arm. “Yes?”

“Wait, but…” Open-mouthed, Francis points at him and stares in open-mouthed shock. “You made snacks for me last time.”

Several emotions wash over Taro all at once, individually merging together until Taro can’t even identify what he’s feeling, exactly. It feels sweet and sour all at once. Opting to give Francis a weak chuckle, he replies, “I did.”

“...why, then?”

“I… wanted to treat you too.” Taro drops his gaze. “Isn’t it a normal thing? I guess… I just want to blend in.” Hands clasp together. “I want to have the experiences you do.”

“Yeah, but… Takkun, you didn’t need to do it for me.” Francis’s voice sounds low with guilt.

“I know, but… I really wanted to.” Taro smiles a little, glancing at him. “I don't regret it.”

Touched, Francis cocks his head to the side, and then Taro realises he has an arm around his own shoulders. Taro still finds it amazing that someone as well off as Francis is wouldn’t mind touching someone as filthy as he probably is. He can't afford any good brand of soap. His clothes certainly aren't as luxurious as the ones Francis wears. Taro would like to keep as clean as possible, in order to avoid his other classmates knowing about his street, or rather, village urchin origins. Sadly enough, that isn't always possible.

That Francis is willing to make contact despite this barrier means… an awful lot to Taro. With a smile, he says, “Thank you.”

“For what?” Francis asks, green eyes twinkling in curiosity. “I should be thanking you.”

“For giving me a chance,” Taro replies. When Francis releases him, he cradles the three plastic containers precariously in his arms. He tries to make the tower not fall over by pressing them to his chest.

“Need help?”

It’s so soft, so innocent. Taro looks over at Francis, uncertain. It’s been so long that he’s accustomed to depending entirely on himself. But now, with Francis here, he’s starting to gain much appreciation for his companionship.

After a few seconds, Francis seems to sense his deliberation and without asking, he takes one container. “Now you can just hold both in one hand and it’ll be more steady,” he proclaims proudly.

Amused, Taro chuckles. “And what? Look like some kind of salesman?”

“You’d be the best salesman ever, I think.” And then Francis is smiling at him again with eyes so genuine, so sincere, that sometimes Taro can't help but wonder if he’s actually just someone he dreamed up being desperately lonely and all.

“You’re way more charismatic,” Taro replies instead, laughing along.

“Huh? No way!”

“Of course. You managed to get me to open up, you know? I’ll admit, I was kind of difficult at the start of this year.”

“Difficult? No way! I didn't notice at all.”

 _That’s because you’re so… pure._ Maybe it’s good? If Francis had given up that early, he’d never have a friend now. Heading back towards their classroom, Taro replies, “For sure. I think I’m doing better now, though. I just think that maybe… that much time alone isn't good for your psyche.”

“Hm. Maybe.” Francis sets the container down on Taro’s desk. His deskmate looks over in curiosity, and Taro’s heart seizes with sudden fear - _will he figure it out? Think I’m lesser?_ \- but when Bryan simply goes back to his phone, Taro breathes a sigh of relief.

Feeling a tap on his shoulder, Taro turns to his side. Francis grins at him. “I’m always here to talk,” he whispers, glancing at Taro’s deskmate.

Taro’s heart squeezes. Maybe this is the something he’s been craving for so long. All of a sudden, he just really wants to stand there and bask in his friend’s company. Voice tight, he replies, “Thank you.”


	3. Shower

Taro heaves a sigh of bliss as he allows the running water to cascade over his tired muscles. 

There isn't much hot water at home; all his showers are icy cold and short. Taro had mastered the art of the five minute shower long ago. Shampoo, a brief soaping down, and occasionally some more time afterwards with the shower shut off spent scraping dirt off his skin.

A slight pang in his stomach prompts him to look down. Almost instantly, he sweeps a hand over his raggedy thin self, as if shielding it from view from… who, exactly? Taro spares a quick glance back. The door is closed. _No one’s going to see you,_ he scoffs as he finally, reluctantly turns the hot water off to start soaping down. He does this quickly, since a chill is making him shiver.

It’s about ten minutes later that Taro finally shuts the water off. As well versed in his ways as he is, Taro finds himself slightly guilty at the thought of wasting so much water… but it is a nice, warm shower after all, and it’s so much better than what he can have at home, and he doesn't need to pay for it… so there’s nothing wrong with indulging in it at all, or at least that’s what Taro tells himself.

Pulling on his clothes after a quick dry, it hits Taro once again how plain they are, the fabric stretched rather thin and adorned with many stains over the years. He’s been wearing the same shirt since he was ten, and now he frowns and tries to pull it down further, trying not to expose his back. It’s futile, in the end. Taro concludes that he needs a new shirt, and can only hope that such a thing is in his reach.

A sense of inadequacy swamps over him like a wave crashing against the shore. Taro closes his eyes, breathing out harshly and running a calloused hand through his dark hair. 

Presentable. He looks somewhat presentable. That should be enough. Taro can't afford whatever it is that makes Francis’s hair so soft, his skin so smooth, and Taro won't lie - sometimes when he’s next to this epitome of delicate beauty, he feels like he might just shrivel up from how unworthy he is. He feels… rough, and dirty. A simple country boy.

Francis had initiated a hug between them, however. The first real contact of this sort he had ever received from a peer. If Taro concentrates right now, perhaps he can even feel the heat seeping into his body, a different breed of warmth than a mere shower could grant him. Surely if Francis could reconcile their differences, Taro would be able to as well? Maybe he should talk to the other boy later on. Text him. Just for companionship. He suddenly finds himself missing him.

Taro grabs his small bag filled with shower stuff, draping the white towel over his shoulder. With another toss of his hair, he steps out of the shower stall. He glances back, a second check to see if he left anything behind. When his search proves negative, he exits the boy’s locker room. 

School is over and the sun is setting. Taro hurries along to retrieve his rucksack before he starts on his journey home.

**Author's Note:**

> The taro lifestyle drabbles


End file.
